Disposable Bonds
by Jessica Holmes
Summary: Back from Europe, all Leon Kennedy now has to do is sit through a debriefing and the whole affair is over with. Until Claire Redfield's name is mentioned. Leon soon finds himself back in Pueblo on a second rescue mission, and this time its personal.
1. Leon Kennedy

- - - Please note, read _A prelude to a lifetime_ before you read on - - -

**Washington D.C**

**Friday September 17th 2004**

**18:00**

Leon Kennedy un-holstered his 9mm Blacktail and laid it down on the table in front of him.

Next came the magnum, but he paused to admire the craftsmanship before he handed it over. With a rue smile to himself, he realised that he hadn't used it that much after all and had practically wasted the money it took upgrading the thing. "Couldn't resist..." He muttered to himself. Once the semi-automatic rifle was also on the table, along with the TMP and all the add-ons, he decided to pay attention to the de-briefing at last.

The general stood before the rescue team, which Leon noticed was mostly comprised of the military. _'Funny…all I saw was Mike. Where the hell did these jokers come in?'_ Leon thought, keeping his words to himself. The bitterness about losing his unexpected comrade caused Kennedy to develop a certain level of disrespect for the men in the room. The officer in charge that had met he and Ashley on the shore hadn't even reacted when Leon informed him about the pilot's death. They were all numbers in retrospect, just a figure of 'lives lost'.

Leon scoffed at the thought and earned himself an awkward moment of silence as nearly all eyes turned on him. With a sheepish smile he nodded to the room and cleared his throat in an attempt to lighten the tension. After a sharp sigh of irritation, the general carried on as Leon busied himself lining up the grenades he still had left on his belt.

But the agent's full attention was suddenly earned when the general made a side comment to his subordinate.

"Any news on the S.T.A.R.S operative?"

Leon's head was up in a split second.

"No Sir."

"Ah…then inform the other members of their loss as soon as we are done with the de-brief."

"What operative?" A panicked voice demanded from the back of the room.

The general blinked in confusion at such an outburst and took a moment to mull over Leon's request for information.

"Redfield..." The general said quickly, then paused to look through the early field report sheets for the rest of the name, but Leon already knew who it was.

"Ah yes, A Miss –"

"Claire..." Leon almost whispered in disbelief.

The general narrowed his eyes. "Agent Kennedy, did you come into contact with the – "

"No! What the hell did you bring Claire into this for?" He was on his feet now, his mind racing with thoughts of the woman he hadn't seen in six years. The bittersweet goodbye at the station back then was hardly enough for a final meeting. If only he'd known he would never see her again maybe he would have –

"It became apparent that this mission involved a cult of activists. S.T.A.R.S seemed the most suitable to request for assistance, as their members consisted of survivors from incidents such as Racoon City, and they had collective experience on similar matters to the Los Illuminados. It seemed our best option to hire their aid. Their knowledge of Umbrella is un-matched also, which would have greatly assisted our inquiries. Redfield was the voluntary member that was sent to us, we did not select her Agent Kennedy. And she insisted she were sent in with your recovery team." Leon stood there in stunned silence. It only made it worse that the general was talking in past tense as if Claire was already gone. "We originally intended for her to go with the research teams once you and Ashley were returned." Leon just kept shaking his head, unable to comprehend Claire's motivation. He couldn't accept that he himself was her reasoning for all of this. There must be more to it, he told himself.

"Then where is she?" Leon's voice was cracking under the strain of apprehension and guilt. All kinds of thoughts were rushing through his mind, images of the vibrant girl from years passed filled him with a feeling of loss before he even heard the answer.

The general swallowed to buy him a moment of time.

"Agent Redfield was diploid in the helicopter."

Leon choked. "Wh – but…" His burning eyes were hit with the image of the helicopter blowing up before him. "I saw it get shot down…Mike…it…she – that means –"

"No Kennedy, she was sent in the first helicopter we despatched to collect you and Miss Graham."

A spark of hope weakly ignited in Leon's aching chest. But it almost died out when he remembered it too had been – "Shot down. That's what Hunnigan said. And I…I didn't even think anything of it, shit I even complained!" Slamming his open palm on the table in front of him, Leon fixed his piercing eyes on the general. "Why didn't you tell me _she_ was there? I would have – "

"Exactly."

Leon panted in panic and just stared at the ground in confusion.

"You had one mission and one mission only. That was to collect Miss Graham and return her to us unharmed. You would have endangered her if you had pursued outside courses."

"You _bastard_." Leon hissed, clenching a fist tightly after a moment of silence.

The whole room was watching him with held breath. Hunnigan bit her lip nervously. She had never thought somebody as forward and smart talking as Leon would react so drastically to a single woman. Especially one she had never heard him or anyone mention before. Swallowing a lump in her throat she cautiously took a step forward toward him.

"Leon…?"

The Agent's head shot up. "Fuck you Hunnigan".

"Agent Kennedy!" The general warned, but it went unheard.

"You knew she was in that helicopter, you didn't give a shit any more than I did about it going down at the time, but you _knew_ she was in there!" Hunnigan clamped her mouth shut and nervously ran a hand through her now unkempt hair. She had no right to say anything to him now, even though she hadn't been aware of his connection with the S.T.A.R.S operative.

"I am willing to excuse this behaviour in light of your success on this mission Kennedy, but let me warn you that I – " The general's older voice began.

"Do whatever you want to. I'm going to find Claire."

The general's words died in his mouth. "…But Leon," The older man's voice seemed strangely concerned. "The helicopter went down. We heard no word from the crew in the aftermath. They are all presumed de-"

"She's alive!" The agent countered, pointing threateningly at the general. "You don't know her." He turned his finger on himself. "I do. I survived Racoon with her, and she was only a college student then for Christ sake! Now she is a trained S.T.A.R.S member by the sound of it, I know she would have survived something as simple as a crash. I'm going for her, and you'll let me because I brought Ashley home." It wasn't a request.

Without another word, Leon began re-equipping his weaponry.

Nobody dared to intervene, all heads in the room turned to look back and forth between the silent General and the Agent with no word. Leon simply stood up, turned around and walked out. The door slammed behind him.

- - -

Standing alone in the quiet hallway, Leon Kennedy was in a state of complete shock. He could already hear the general putting a call through to the President in the room behind him, and that Leon would be sent for in due course. But for now he allowed himself a moment's contemplation.

He hadn't seen anything of Claire Redfield in six whole years, not since he had given her a slip of simple paper that he asked her to dispose of anyway. He could still remember how Claire's blue eyes had lit up when she read it, and with real hope for the first time since he had known her.

Sherry Birkin. That was another name he had never said, yet never forgotten since Racoon. He didn't know how or where she was either but he had signed a deal for her safety that also meant he kept away. Although that particular deal hadn't stopped him from finding Claire, he never had done.

And now he felt like he had failed her too.

Rubbing his forehead with a sweaty palm, Leon tried to straighten out his thoughts. He needed to find her, and thinking he had failed before he even began would do him no good. It had taken him two years to shake off such a defeatist attitude after he had witnessed Ada Wong's seeming death.

Since then, he had found her again. Alive and well – and still working against him.

The women in his life had never given him an easy time.

Forcing his feet forward, Leon tried to get himself mentally prepared for what lie ahead. He was going back to the horror of Pueblo first and foremost, and he had to get himself geared up for that before anything else. Only then could he be of any help to Claire.

If she was still alive…

Suddenly, Leon turned and slammed his fist into the wall, his voice yelling out in frustration at himself over and over again as he continued to pound the wall with that same fist. He had been through enough in the past twenty-four hours, nearly losing his life countless times, coming face to face with a woman he thought dead only to have her taunt him along with an old comrade who had turned against him. To add to this, Leon had been panicking almost constantly about the safety of an innocent girl. To now hear Claire Redfield had been struggling on her own during all of that – how could he have missed that? He hadn't seen her, not once. Or perhaps he had and hadn't paid attention. The latter made him slam new dents in the wall.

Only when various doors opened in curiosity along the corridor did he let up.

But then guilt was all that was left, his anger subsided and worn out. He stood there breathing heavily until a hand touched his shoulder. Turning his head round in surprise, Leon came face to face with Hunnigan, concern practically written on her face.

Leon took a moment to register her face, coming unnervingly close to seeing Claire for a split second. Sighing, he eventually nodded to Hunnigan before pushing himself up from the wall and walking in the direction of the President's office, the place she had come to send him to no doubt.

And she watched him go with the sympathetic eyes he hated to see. He saw that look on everyone who got to know him, because nobody could possibly empathise with what he had been through. Nobody's eyes held that comfort.

Not since Claire.

Leon pushed the loose strands of his hair out of his eyes and took a deep breath. Having reached his destination, he was about to knock on the white door in front when a knowing voice startled him.

"Come in Leon."

**Author's Notes : **_With this story I want to focus on a realistic bond between Claire and Leon. I'm a realist first of all, so I won't be creating any fairytale ending where all is forgiven and accepted. Not going to happen with them is it? Really now. So, instead I want to build up their eventual meeting with the scenes in Resident Evil Four that I could see Claire in whilst I was playing the game. But I am writing this in a way that Leon never saw Claire - so keep that in mind. Just like Ada's 'seperate ways' bit, most of it happened unknown to Leon. Think of this story as Claire's version of the sub-game. Anyway, a few things - the weapons list Leon has at the beginning of this story was what I completed the game with. There is a little trivia for you! And I couldn't believe Capcom picked the Blacktail for Ada's separate ways thing either, I am not an Ada fan. She's an unrealistic result of testosterone - for instance, where in that impossible dress can she fit her shotgun? Come ON! But I respect her own bond with Leon, so I shall honour that in this story. Like with Final Fantasy - you simply can't have a Cloud Tifa pairing with no mention of Aeris. Doesn't work. Anyway enough rant, next comes Claire Redfield's introduction._

_Side Note: Look up 'Resident Evil Extinction Claire' in Google images. Look for the screenshot of a longhaired Claire Redfield in combat gear - that's the slant I'm taking for her. And just so you all know, I don't condone Resident Evil films. I still refuse to watch the one with Jill in - what were they thinking! She looks rubbish. Oh and I made the date up as September that this all took place. This is because Ashley's photograph looks like it was taken in late summer, (and she's dressed half for warm weather, half for cold) and she was taken from her college campus so it must have been through term-time, and it is six years since Racoon as Leon says at the game start so I figured it must take place near or after September for that reason, yet before autumn started changing the colour of leaves. Sorry, just guessing because I couldn't find the real date - if anybody knows, please tell!_

_Xx Jessie xX_


	2. Claire Redfield

**Washington D.C**

**Wednesday September 15th**

**22:03** (American Time)

Three men stood to attention while they were briefed on the mission ahead.

"You are to provide assistance for Agent Kennedy when notified that he has Miss Graham. Be prepared to make a discreet appearance because the people of Pueblo are… _intimidating_ despite their humble nature. Not much is known about the Los Illuminados cult thus far so despatch the S.T.A.R.S member for that very reason. It is her task to gather further information, _you_ are the recovery team. Remember that. I will not have this mission compromised by idiotic heroism." One of the men shifted uncomfortably. "Now is not the time for that, the safety of the President's daughter is your only conce -"

Before the man finished his words, one of the doors to the helipad was pushed open and a feminine figure stepped out into the open night air.

Piercing blue eyes were what the men noticed first about her, as people typically did, then the brown hair that framed her oval face in soft strands. A light wind blew her long hair about her as she walked, but judging by the hard look in her glance it only seemed to irritate her.

Her attire was nothing but the necessary; an olive green tank top bordered around the shoulders by a double holster; a pair of 9mm guns were tucked into it beneath her underarms. Fitted pants of a darker green shade clung to her strong thighs closely, the bottoms tucked into brown boots that came to just below her knees. Buckles surrounded her left calve tightly holding a combat knife in place. Her wrists had straps of leather wound around them, tailing up and across her knuckles ready for close combat – she preferred their multi-use purpose compared to fingerless gloves. Leather straps were surprisingly handy.

Lastly came her weapons belt that circled her curving hips, intimidating in the collection it held. Six grenade loops ran the length of its left side, each one full. On the right side of the belt sat a long rectangular side-pack for bullets and accessories. Either side of the front belt buckle sat two small pouches of healing supplies with extra room if needed. And finally above her rear, tucked into criss-crossed holsters on the belt were a pair of M-100's for 'special occasions'.

Strapped to her thighs were two empty sheaths ready for extra weaponry if she had the opportunity to gain it. And secured on her back was a square pack for any of the documentation or samples she aimed to recover.

As she walked toward the men with a deliberate stride, faded silver dog tags around her neck caught the reflection of the red lights that marked the helipad. She had worn them ever since her brother gave them to her as a gesture that he wouldn't leave again. But their meaning soon changed to become just a metal substitute for his often still absent presence.

Finally reaching the assembled men she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her Identification card and after a brief pause it was handed back to her. It was only then that she acknowledged the other three men – and instantly she knew she wasn't welcome.

The superior officer in charge turned to his team and motioned to the new addition.

"This is S.T.A.R.S operative Claire Redfield." She nodded to the others. "You will all be despatched at a base in Europe, and there you will wait for Ingrid Hunnigan to contact you when Agent Kennedy has Miss Graham in his possession. Then you will depart in the designated helicopter for the drop-off point." He paused before adding, "Agent Redfield has a separate assignment, so treat this matter accordingly."

Claire tilted her head to the side with a rue smile and looked away. She knew what _that_ meant. She wasn't a part of the team in other words. She was on her own in this.

"Good luck men."

That confirmed it.

- - -

**An Undisclosed area in Spain**

**Thursday September 16th**

**21:16** (Spanish Time)

"_Claire Redfield_…Well I've never heard of you. S.T.A.R.S aren't meant to be around anymore though, yeah?" A masculine voice thought to himself out loud. "Ended years back with that Spencer incident." He added to the man next to him, as if to quieten his potential questions before carrying on. "So how can you be one of 'em? I never saw your name on the original team list. And there aint been a team since then." He called over his shoulder, barely chancing a glance back as he kept focus on the flight controls in front of him.

Claire ignored him, keeping her eyes focussed on her clasped hands that hung loosely between her parted knees.

There was a long pause.

"You aint a real S.T.A.R.S member then are you?"

Claire looked up from her silent reverie to find the source of the second voice in front. The communications officer was now looking straight at her for the first time, his blond hair falling in his eyes.

At first she didn't want to answer out of irritation at their offensive comments. But she swallowed a lump of her pride and cleared her dormant voice. "Yes. I went to an academy in '99 after college. I trained, I did what I needed, and I ended up in my current position. I have practically been a S.T.A.R.S member since '98 – in a sense. Irons put us out of commission that year so we officially don't exist. We're privately funded now." Her monotonous voice was almost haunting in the way it retold her last six years in barely a couple of sentences. "But conveniently, your government seem to notice us when it suits them."

A grin formed on the blonde's face, oblivious to her lost mood. "All right, just don't get in our way all right girl? Scott's the type to go rushing in gun's blazin' so we don't need another twirp getting these locals any more fired up than they are." He said, though there was obviously a fond sense of respect for Leon in his words. Claire couldn't help but smile secretly at the loyalty the rookie seemed to gain unknowingly from everyone he came across.

Sitting on the wall-edge seating in the back, Claire busied herself with loading her guns. Most of the four were already done, but it occupied her for the time being.

Then a high-pitched scratching sound blared into action. The blond man up ahead fixed his headset and his hands disappeared from Claire's view until a screen bleeped on in front of him. Claire leaned to her left to try and see it over his shoulder.

"Pick-up team, do you read?"

"Loud and clear Hunnigan, how's it hanging over there?"

"…Have you got a visual of the target?"

"Nah, not yet. But we're just coming up to the lake now. That's close right?"

"Yes. Leon is heading for the drop point now, head over there immediately."

A knot formed in Claire's stomach at the sound of his name. Leon Kennedy was close, and she didn't know exactly what to think about that.

"Gotcha."

"Remember to despatch the S.T.A.R.S member as scheduled. The Los Illuminados need further investigation, and we fear they plan a terrorist attack. Another team will be despatched in due course."

"Later Hunnigan."

"Over and out." They were almost ready for action by the sounds of that transmission Claire thought, so she readied herself.

But they were about to start sooner than any of them had planned.

Without warning a loud crack sounded from below and before anybody could prepare for it, a blazing hole was punched into the helicopter's main body. The whole craft shuddered violently in reaction, the passengers all thrown back hard from the impact. "Styles – get us out of here!" One of the men shouted desperately. The pilot tried to react accordingly but his commands were met with a blazing red siren of emergency. "Shit! I can't, we've been hit!"

"I gathered that much!" The man beside Claire shouted back. The pair of them had been directly opposite the area that had been targeted, and were both desperately trying not to tumble into the flaming wreckage. "We can't last long back here!" Claire suddenly spoke up, her feminine hands clambering to hold onto the piping on the wall as air sucked out of the hole, trying to pull her with it.

The rough hole that the explosion had caused allowed Claire a view into the night outside. The water looked sickeningly far down and Claire held on even tighter, fearing a sudden descent into the slick black waves. But something else quickly caught her attention; the flames were inching closer, licking along the metal flooring and equipment. "Can't you emergency land?"

Her answer came as the helicopter suddenly took a nosedive. Looking around for the pilot, Claire gasped when she saw he was slumped forwards lifelessly, blood smeared on the glass next to his head where he must have been knocked unconscious. Next to him, the communications officer was screaming requests for back-up into his headset, the flickering image of a woman Claire had been introduced to before was on the screen in front of him. _'Hunnigan.'_ she thought to herself in confirmation.

But Claire knew the man's efforts were futile. Unless back-up came in a split second, they were all going down.

Swallowing hard, Claire steadied her weight on her legs, holding her feet firm. The man beside her was still managing to hold on likewise, but the obvious fear in his eyes made her feel for him. He was unprepared for this.

But just as she let go to reach out one hand to comfort him, the helicopter struck hard water and Claire was thrown loose out of the craft's confines. She rolled and twisted at speed down into the murky depths before she managed to thrash her limbs out and stop herself. Spluttering a lungful of sickly water, she attempted to swim to the surface, but the sight of a plummeting wreckage caught her full attention. Eyes wide, she tried to swim down to it, fearing the worst for the men who were strapped inside. She swore she even saw a glimpse of blond hair and pale hands pressed up against the glass, eyes looking at her. The blackened depths of water were quickly stirred up in a blur of bubbles and scales and Claire witnessed the reason why the water tasted so bitter.

Her scream was muffled into nothingness by the thick bloody water as the ominous creature dove after the helicopter. Body jerking from the lack of air, Claire tried to force herself to watch for fear of abandoning her temporary comrades. But it was clear nobody was going to surface, not judging by the thick red clouds that were starting to touch her lips as they stained the water. Choking and spluttering in disgust, Claire pushed against the water, trying to urge herself to the surface. Scared beyond all comprehension, her mind started to panic with thoughts of those huge jaws clamping onto her mid-section and ripping her apart just like those men. But by some miracle her pale face was suddenly met with a cold rush of open air. Gulping in much needed oxygen, Claire swam frantically in a random direction, her reflexes set on getting away. She could hear the monster's voice gurgling below, a dull roar crippled by the moving water. She didn't care about her dignity anymore, she just began screaming and screaming. She called for somebody, anybody to help but the mist covered lake was surrounded by nothing but rock – tall, jagged, solid rock. The monster's deep-throated roars were still drowning her out so any meagre small sound her frightened voice box made was pointless. Thankfully, something snapped into place in her thoughts and she realised she needed to focus her direction – and somehow through the murky fog she spotted the wooden cladding of a small pier and the dull glow of lights.

But so had the creature behind her that was gaining on her, its impressive jaws opening wide and ready.

Feeling a sudden wave of water rush around her pushing her forward, Claire knew she was being tailed. Thinking on only a second of time, she dove downwards. But her escape wasn't complete, nor good enough as she felt sharp uneven teeth tear rough lines out of her legs. Clenching her jaw in pain, she thrashed through the water in reaction. But that was when she noticed the rope tailing from the beast's mouth as it swam below seeking her. Treading water above it, she knew her only way out of her situation was to defeat it – as it always was. She never seemed to have the nice option of just running away.

Knowing the men below were very unlikely to surface anytime soon, she knew she also had to do it alone. Readying herself as the creature turned to seek her new position, Claire spotted her chance – the rope belonged to a rusty harpoon.

A ghost of a smile smeared on her soaking face; Leon must have been against this creature. And if he could handle it, she could.

But she had one shot. And if she failed, the jaws would snap down on her if even a second of time was wasted. She readied herself as the thing approached, it's sluggish body lazily turning around to come straight for her. As it widened it's large mouth for her, she held her arms out to steady her position within the murky depths and held her right leg out ready. The blood oozing from her injuries only enticed the beast further, but Claire's blue eyes were focussed on the angle of the slanted harpoon.

The roar erupting from the hungry lake dweller almost knocked Claire's concentration, but she managed to recover just in time to swerve her lithe body to the left and slam her right foot down onto the harpoon as hard as the heavy water would allow. Holding her breath in an almost paralysing anticipation, she watched the metal twist from her impact to lodge firmly through vital organs. The harpoon's sudden movement did just as Claire had meant it to, and stopped the beast in its tracks with piercing agony. Writhing from the pain, the thing lost all interest in Claire and she was cutting her escape path through the water like a bullet before the Del Lago finally howled it's dying cry.

Pulling herself heavily onto wooden cladding at long last, Claire didn't stop until her whole water-logged body was on its feet, barely finding the energy to pathetically run a few metres before collapsing.

She laid there exhausted, and breathed in thick clumps of dirt from the floor that her cheek was pressing down on, but she didn't care.

Claire Redfield was alive.

And not too far ahead, Agent Leon Kennedy was standing with a newly recovered Ashley Graham receiving a transmission.

"_Leon, I have some bad news…"_

**Author's Notes: **_So how did you guys like Claire? I hope she measures up. The gap in time is almost a day from when they set off to when they reach Pueblo - I know. A lot of you would have gone - eh? But you have to take into account that it would take approximately ten hours to fly from America to Spain, and then when they reach Spain, that country is six hours in front of America, in most areas. Plus they had to wait for Leon's extra six hour cat-nap he has during the game after which he wakes up to a night time setting, so I am guessing times her best I can by the few facts I've got to go on. Stick with me people! How is it looking? Next up comes Leon's confrontation with the President, and Claire gets to grips with Ganados._

_Trivia - there are cities in Spain called 'Leon' and 'Ganado'. There's something for you._

_Xx Jessie xX_


	3. The President

**Washington D.C**

**Friday September 17th 2004**

**18:15 **(American Time)

"I see."

Leon blinked. He had been holding his breath for an answer, but if that was all he was going to get, he knew he had no chance of leaving here any time soon. The President simply stayed where he was standing, in his statuesque manner that meant he was thinking of how best to word disappointment.

Leon knew he was in deep shit.

"Sir I – "

"Kennedy."

Leon stepped back and clasped his hands behind him. "Sir?"

A sigh. "I have listened to your explanation, and am full aware of the seriousness of your current situation."

Leon sighed in relief,

"However,"

Then shut him up again.

"As you know, your first assignment is to protect my daughter, and put her welfare before your own, or any other's."

Leon resisted the urge to step forward and make a very vocal protest to that. But instead, he safely settled for digging the toes of his boots into the President's plush carpet to restrain himself.

"And as that contract still stands, I feel Ashley needs protecting more than ever in the wake of recent events. So I am afraid your services are still called upon and will be until this whole matter is fully resolved. My daughter has come to depend on you Leon."

'_First name terms now huh? Next you'll be telling me I'm the son you never had. Jesus…'_

During his period of thought, Leon failed to notice the President turn to face him, and lost his chance to hide his rather obvious frustration. Even his fists were clenched by now.

And when he eventually looked up, it was like looking straight down the laser of a sniper rifle.

_Definitely in deep shit…'_

"It seems clear to me Kennedy, that you have forgotten – "

'_My place? Yeah looks like it. Just hand my ass to me on a resignation slip so I can get out of here already…'_

" – the terms of your contract."

'_Close enough'_

Already preparing himself for an early exit, Leon was reaching into his pocket for his soon to be expired access cards, when he caught sight of something that stopped him dead.

The President was smiling?

Leon blinked. Now he was really confused. Letting his arms relax, he held his hands up in a surrender gesture and admitted his defeat. "Okay Sir, I really don't know where you are going with this conversation anymore. Can we just get this over with? I know I'm out."

"Well yes, yes you are Kennedy. I am glad we can come to an amicable conclusion."

The agent's expression now showed he clearly had not been expecting that after all.

A laugh sounded again from the more mature man. "Leon please, do you really think me that much of an unreasonable man? The terms of your contract I am referring to are those which grant you _leave_ upon the successful completion of this mission."

It took one whole silent minute for this information to sink in.

Then another just to make sure.

"…So you're letting me go back?"

The older man smiled genuinely and nodded, his rounded figure standing proudly in the presence of his most favoured and reliable agent.

"And you can have all the assistance you require. On one condition though Kennedy. That you say goodbye to my daughter before she falls through the door there."

"Excuse m -?" Leon was interrupted by the sound of a surprised gasp from behind the door. Instantly turning to face it, he relaxed with a small smile when he realised he recognised the voice.

"No problem Sir." He replied, nodding to President Graham before quickly striding across the room to the door before Ashley could fully run away from embarrassment.

For the first time that day, Leon Kennedy smiled.

'_I'm on my way Claire'_

* * *

**Author's Notes: **_I know this isn't much to be going on with, but I felt this part should stand on its own. It fits well as a lone chapter. Sorry it's been so long guys, and a load of your will want me shot because this meagre update is not CloTi related - but hold it! I'm working on everything at once, so everything is coming along slow, but if I fixate on one thing, then the others will never get done because I'll lose track of them. So keep with me here. Hi to Gordon if you're reading, sorry I haven't checked out your art in a while, you on the other hand are allowed to shoot me._

_And a nice shout out to Christian Wei by the way. Let's get writing!_

_Xx Jessie xX_


	4. Mendez

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* * *

..."_Miss Claire Redfield?"_

_A head suddenly jerked up amongst those sat nervously in the waiting room. Her hands paused in mid air where they had been supporting her sinking forehead. She stared. The man in the white coat casually looked over his clipboard. The more he made her wait, eyes scanning his notes as if they were instructions to a manual, the more people seated in the room started to shift uncomfortably in their seats. Claire's blue eyes looked frightened, hit with the chance of receiving very, very bad news. The prospect of losing in this gamble of hospital verdicts was almost infectious. Nobody else wanted to be contaminated with it, and even made idle chit-chat just to brush Claire out. Out of sight, out of mind. They wanted to stay positive, and one look at her dishevelled hair, wrinkled shirt and sore eyes told them that she had at least raised the bar for them – one down, more hope for the ones left._

"_We have your results now."..._

_- - -_

_**An Undisclosed area in Spain**_

_**Thursday September 16th**_

_**22:21** (Spanish Time)_

A mutilated blade smacked into the worn brick just to the left of Claire and shocked her back to reality. Throwing herself down, she rolled to the right and threw her wrists up, twin handguns exploding into harsh recoils as she pummelled bullets into the neck growth in front of her. She was confused, angry, and pissed off. With gritted teeth she tried to keep focussed amidst the cracks of light her gun barrels edjected into the air. Her ammo was low, her thighs hurt from throwing herself on the floor so much, and her right hip currently had a grenade digging into it.

_Click, click._

"Oh you have got t – SHIT!" Chucking her exhausted weight into a heavy roll Claire only just managed to dodge out of the way of the scythe like abomination that kept shuffling toward her. Swerving onto her back, she slammed the two ends ofher guns together, edjecting empty cartridges, and rammed clean ones in as she desperately back-peddled along the dirt road. Twice she let out a high-pitched shout as the thing following her slumped forward, its seemingly elasticated neck muscles catapulting an extended blade to the ground where she was laying. Then, finally, she lifted her arms high above the ground and stopped still, yelling out a choked battle cry as she discharged thirty bullets into the walking neck. It had only taken thirteen bullets to kill it, but Claire didn't stop until she heard that familiar 'click click' of emptyness.

Her own neck straining from looking up from the floor, she watched the thing come to its end before finally letting her head fall back into the dirt. A cloud of rotten dust puffed out beneath her hair and she closed her eyes against it. The stickyness of sweat clung irritably to her palms and she grunted in response to it. She stretched open her palms, allowing her guns to slip out of her grasp. Flexing her fingers, she welcomed the coolness of the air upon their rough surface. Waiting only a few moments, she finally opened her eyes and looked up at the night. Clouds still seemed to be choking any colour out of the sky leaving the place covered in a smog. As she laid there she thought of the area as a secret world. Like a confidential file locked away in Umbrella's endless cabinets, that none of the real world knew about. She was just seeming to distract herself with these thoughts when a shuffling suddenly sounded very close to her ears.

She rolled over a little too quickly and pulled a muscle – very professional. Somehow she managed to ignore it and flung her arms out in front. She aimed her empty guns unsteadilly at her oncoming foe – only to look up at someone very unexpected, and from this angle, very tall.

"Hello stranger…"

Claire blinked in confusion. Gaping up at the man, she lost all shreds of her theory about this place, drawing a blank slate once again. Amongst all this madness - the rabid dogs with tenticles bursting out of their spines, men with naturally grown axes springing from their necks like a jack-in-the-box and bandage faced women wielding chainsaws – this strange individual calmly wanders up to her as if they were in a supermarket queue. She had seen everything the sick world of science had to offer before she had even come here she thought, no more surprises. Turns out there were a lot more tricks in Pandora's box, and she just happened to be Umbrella's playmate. Shoulders slumping, she gave the man a very unimpressed look. "…and just who the fuck are you?"

"Got a few things that might interest ya – " He made a move to open his coat, but claire cocked the guns loudly, eyes staring bolt upright at him. Claire knew she couldn't take any chances, even with the ones who looked human. The village folk had seemed harmless at first glance – right up until the point their necks burst. Looking this robed individual up and down, she shivered at the thought of what lurked under his robes.

"Not another move." She shifted her right wrist, the gun's insides clicking lightly as she waved it over to the right a couple of times. "Over there." She commanded, and he obligingly shifted, one hand raised in polite surrender, the other clasped around a wooden torch pole ammitting a blue flame.

As slowly as she could whilst trying to make haste, Claire pulled her legs up from under her using her elbows for support. Digging them into the ground, she kept her guns aimed and her head up as she brought herself up onto her knees. From there she stood carefully, hands squeezing control onto empty guns. She swallowed. "Are you infected?" Her booted foot crunched down on a bloody corpse to the side of her. "Like him?" She heard her choked voice ask the questions, bitter with soreness and chafing from the amount of dust and grime she had inhaled from the floor. She remembered collapsing after the lake incident, throwing herself onto the ground again and again to avoid torrents of pitchforks and thrown axes and tossed dynamite sticks. She felt like she'd aged another ten years and coughed violently before she could continue.

She aimed afresh, regaining her stance. Clean blue eyes stared out at the man from under a curtain of defiant dirt and scum.

"…Well? Is your neck going to grow its own artilary?"

The man sat himself down on a dillapedated fence closeby. Claire noticed barbed wire sweetly joined the bits of fence to the next piece. _A nice addition to any church yard I'm sure…_

"I have my own artilary," The man said. "But I'm afraid you'll 'ave to pay for it." He laughed with a stale throat, like a heavy smoker or an old cop with too many memories and only one way to deal with them. "And er, you can stop aiming them empty things at me. Not gonna do you much good 'round here."

Claire faltered. She wasn't fooling anybody. After a few seconds, she realised he wasn't willing to pose any sort of threat – mocking she could deal with right now. Taking a moment to re-load, she allowed herself the luxury of conversation. "What are you selling?"

"Too big a question. What do you want me to sell?" Claire stopped and perked an inquisative brow at him.

"Huh, how about a magnum…" She laughed emptilly ans lightly shook her head.

"Which specifics were you lookin' at?"

Claire dropped one of her guns. "E – excuse me? What kind of gig are you running here? These people are using pitchforks for God sakes!" She said disbelievingly, ignoring her gun for the moment.

"Well now, that's what I'm for."

"What?"

"Again…which specs were you wantin'?"

Claire shook her head and bent down to recover her weapon. "You're unbelievable…"

"I'm a tradesman, 's my job to be impressive."

Claire fixed him with a look that said she was anything but impressed. "No. I meant the 'you're full of shit' unbelievable." Holstering her guns, she turned and looked out over the sloping grounds. They had a church here, amidst all this chaos and mutilation of all things God-made. Was it a joke? Or did they have some twisted cult church to cap it all off. Maybe they had rituals here? She felt bile rising to her throat suddenly. She had seen the sick sights this calabre of rituals provided. Doubling over, she turned back and reached for the fence for support. Eyes downcast to the brittle grass, she tried to focus when an aged hand moved into her sight and it held something that surprised the vomit right out of her body.

The beautiful magnum luckilly was pulled out of the way in time, and Claire felt her insides clench as they tossed everything out of her. She hadn't eaten in days, had travelled miles for hours and had more than enough to think about. At least, that's what she blamed this on, as thick blood spattered onto the ground. She almost choked on it as if a hot eel was writhing up out of her throat. Her body shook that violently that she had to hold both hands onto the rotten fence. After a while, her breathing steadied but she was shivvering in panic. There was a pool of blood at her feet and she grudgingly accepted why it had come. Gradually, as her calm restored, she noticed the rough hand soothing her back in a circular motion. Looking to her left through loose strands of sweat drenched hair, she saw dark eyes narrow in concern.

"I could ask you the same question. Are _you_ infected? 'cuz I'm afraid I got nuthin for that."

Claire shook her head and straightened up. Wiping her mouth with the back of her leather bound hand, she didn't say another word as she began the ascent to the church.

- - -

The heavy doors swung back from the force of Claire running straight at them. They creaked painfully, errupting the Holy chasm in an echo of sound, but Claire didn't hear it. Her ears had gone numb to everything but her breathing and the soft sounds of her voice attempting to cry inbetween. She bypassed the pews, ran messily down a stone passage, up a ladder and finally stopped. Sinking to the ground in this small corner, she felt safe enough to be vulnurable. Pulling her knees in, she clutched them with her bare arms, scuffed and scratched from only mere hours here.

She knew she was crying when she reached for her pack and pulled it from her shoulders.

Unbuckling the two fastens, she reached inside for a compact box, a soft metallic noise catching her off guard. Staring at the small droplet on the metal surface she clumsilly reached for her cheek and nearly jumped when she felt the wetness on her skin. Rubbing it dry until it was sore, she continued with the ritual of her own. Punching in a four digit code, the box eased and she lifted the top, exhaling deeply as she saw the two compartments. Setting it beside her, she reached for her left hand and slowly began to undo the leather strap and unwind it, removing her self-made glove. Wrapping the end around the top of her left bicep she heard that unnerving sound again but left her cheeks alone. Pulling the strap tight, she let the loose end drop idly onto her lap. Her breath was shaking. Her right hand reached into the left compartment of the box and lifted out a needle. She punctured it into a glass bottle from the right compartment and watched the plastic bulge with colour the more she pulled. She allowed herself a second to just close her eyes and breath before she moved to place the loose end of the leather between her teeth and winced as she pulled it tight. Clenching her trembling hand repeatedly, her arm tensed enough for the process and she lifted the needle as if it were an iron block. Sensing her weakness again, she bit down and pulled the strap harder, her skin stretching and creasing under the force. But once she punctured her skin with the needle and pressed the medicine into her veigns, she couldn't help the cry her throat let out and she closed her eyes tight to fight the pain. The church…of all places to do this she thought, bleary watery eyes opening to a view of high Christian windows.

If she had ever been asked to describe the sensation, she said Lamen's terms would call it 'stretching'. Pushing the needle down into her skin was like leaning back in a chair and stretching out the upper body, a heavy yawn with muscle spasms she would say. Chris would always just fix her with that blank look that said _'I still don't understand'_. When the liquid from the injection lazilly oozed into her veins, her muscles tensed up and she felt like her whole upper body was straining to push it back out again – until the last drop rolled in and she limply sat back again, fully drained from such a simple movement. Stretching, she called it; with a bit of secretive agony thrown in.

She swallowed and slackened her jaw, the leather strap fell into her lap with new teeth marks to replace the faded marks of the old ones along its length. She thought she would be over this by now. But the blood in the cemetary…

She wound the leather around her fist and clenched it. Gathering her belongings and hiding them away again, she leapt down and broke into a run for the main doors. Now standing before the church doors, guns holstered, grenades around her, dogtags swinging defiantly from her neck stronger than any Christian Cross – she was ready to face everything again. And the doors bent to her will as she stormed her way back out into the night air. Chris said she couldn't do it, Jill had begged her not to. _"We'll see.."_ She told them.

"We'll see."

- - -

_**An Undisclosed area in Spain**_

_**Thursday September 16th**_

_**22:59** (Spanish Time)_

Claire dove for cover in the cramped moving cart, and yelled in frustration as her head smacked into the metal bars surrounding it. Keeping still until she heard the loud crack of a dynamite stick explode in mid-air where the cart had just been, she quickly tried to stand as the cart shook from the impact. Turning her head sharply, she raised both arms, fingers clasped around a 9mm and pulled a rain of bullets accurately out of it toward a crowd of…well, they weren't humans. Not completely at least.

She barely had time for a rest bite as a pick axe clunked into the bar of the car, mere milimetres from her head. When she turned in reflex to look at it, she saw small cut strands of her hair fall to the ground. Glaring, she rounded on the culprits gathered bulkilly in the car travelling in the opposite direction. She aimed a shot; Something that vaguely resembled a woman stretched behind her in such an awkward way that Claire shuddered as she heard the familiar crunch of dislocation. But whoever she was did not seem to care or register pain, as she just hurtled a second axe right for Claire. Swearing like her brother, she leant sharply out of the way and spat out M100 bullets in response until Mrs Axe and her friends tumbled un-feeling into the pitch black abbiss below. Watching them, Claire waited for a sound, but heard nothing. Swallowing nervously, she held on to the rickety cart with the temptation to close her eyes until the ride was over.

When she stepped back onto the familiar dust-ridden paths of this place, she took a moment to check her M-100 stock. Not good. She clicked everything back in and holstered them. Reaching behind her, she pressed them hard to check they were secure on her belt and casually slipped out her handgun from under her arm. As she walked around, she barely caught a glimpse of a control room with delapedated lockers – insignificant. As she continued she spotted what she quickly deducted as a combination of a lot of metal and a beckoning light. Frowning at it, she held up her weapon ready, pulled her palm over the back of it to click the safety off and made her way forward. But she didn't get very far. Slamming her back hard-up against the nearest mould-ridden wall, she held her hands up squashed as if in surrender with a gun in her hand. Her lips murmured with no sound, praying she was not seen as the hulk of a man in the distance walked stockilly into a cave tunnel, a figure in red dangling over one shoulder. Squinting, Claire saw what looked like a bare leg and rolled her eyes at herself for not realising the figure was clearly a woman. She let the matter of discovering her identity slide, concentrating instead on the woman's welfare and allowed enough distance to gather between them for pursuit.

Arms poised at the side of her head, Claire held her gun high and ready as she followed. Candles flickered high in the distance, voices in an accent she didn't understand appeared to be chanting. Something heavy was dropped. Someone gave commands. The chanting started up again. Claire processed each bit of information quickly and filed it away for later use. Deduction wasn't necessary now. Remaining undetected was. Her upper body was coiled to the side while she slowly walked forward, preparing to swing her arms round with momentum and fire if need be. Her thighs strained as she moved slowly over wooden cladding. Her eyes were hard and determined, but even they couldn't have prevented the next few moments.

Claire Redfiled entered the cave;

She was dragged out of it five minutes later, unconscious.

As her head lulled backwards in dizzyness, she could vaguely make out blurred shapes and voices. Someone called out a name, the tall man responded, more orders were given, the chanting faded behind her into the background: she was moving forward. Searing pain hit her and she tried to move her numb jaw and let out a yelp of pain. But her mouth felt swollen as if from a dentists needle. The pain only got worse and she tried to focus her eyes to find the source. One hand felt like it was clamped over her left ankle, and she realised her body was being dragged up two sets of hard metal stairs. By the time she was thrown onto a metal cart that swayed with mechanical movement, she was barely conscious and gagged on a chemical soaked cloth before slipping fully into blackness.

* * *

A's N's : Late. As always. But I will keep going. I am playing through resident evil 4 and separate ways simultaneously to make sure I get everything right in this story. The part where Mendez captures Ada, and she finds herself on that stone slab - someone had to stumble upon that. So I sent poor Claire in. Now, obviously Mendez has to be back waiting for Leon at the barn for the gruesome fight, so why not let him be the one to drag Claire back with him? And no - Claire doesn't end up in the barn. And no, Leon isn't the one to find her. You'll all find out soon enough, but what actually does happen to her is the first ever throught I had for this story while playing the game - I was just sat there thinking, "hey! Claire could be in there!" So wait and see. 

Trivia: Leon Kennedy is cast in next Resident Evil film, and Ali Larter is already confirmed to continue her role in it. Is Jensen Ackles from 'supernatural' a good likeness to Leon? Or are we all hoping this is just a nasty rumour that'll go away fast?

Xx Jessie xX

P.S. Can I be one of the first to say how utterly distraught I am about Pendrum's "My Disjointed Life" coming to an end? Go read it. Under the comedy section of FFVII fics.


	5. Luis Sera

**An Undisclosed area in Spain**

**Friday September 17th  
**

**00:49** (Spanish Time)

The drugs ware off gradually. It's not like they did it for comforts sake or for humane reasons. No. Just a blunt stab with a rusted needle to stop the little eel slipping through their fingers.

Nice.

Claire woke up to sounds first, her sight a little delayed. It was a rumbling sound coupled with the roar of an engine. Now what was that other noise? A quick one two then a crack like a firework. Groaning with confusion she opened her eyes and squinted.

Her perspective was diagonal; Shoved onto a floor she could see things from a strange angle. It was a vehicle, she had figured that much. Plus, there was enough space for her body to be haphazardly dumped in the back which told her it was a truck. If Chris were here he'd be able to tell the make and model of every part of the engine and even clock the top speed. Jealousy subsiding, she noticed the smell. It warned her that a lot of people just like herself had been dumped in here for transit – though she couldn't see them having a pulse at the time. She gagged shamelessly and tried to sit up; Denied.

Rope binds. Tasteful.

Arrogance kicked in and she willed herself to roll over, swivelling on her back until she could get a view of the back of the truck. Turning her head to the side she pushed against her mouth gag and looked through the flapping curtains at the rear of the vehicle, showing her glimpses of disappearing road and grass. Then all of a sudden the fireworks started to make sense; Someone was closing in on the truck. Claire started singing hallelujah in her head as the gun shots continued to pick off the villagers. One by one their bodies collapsed in the wake of the moving truck and she thought she was home free –

Then the truck exploded.

The wheels leapt clean off of the ground in the explosion before smashing down uncontrollably onto the rough terrain, screeching at high speeds. Claire smacked against the wooden edge of the back and closed her eyes just before impact. The truck was like a juggernaut, gunning for somebody in vengeance and the young operative prayed the infected driver had smarts enough to at least guide them to safety. But a sudden voice both elated and doomed her fate.

"Ashley – follow me!" Leon Kennedy.

Claire felt like she had a minute heart attack when his voice jumped out at her. But any other emotions got trodden on by the big fact of this new development; Leon was a Government Agent. Leon was trained on weaponry as well as you could be. Leon would blow this truck to pieces.

Claire instantly started fighting her bonds as the gun shots peppered the truck. She had seconds if that. But the bonds wouldn't move, the rope just kept chaffing and she looked down at her feet in anguish, her face frowning and squeezing with fear. Helplessly she moaned against the gag in her mouth, trying to get a hint of sound out. Just a fraction was enough for the well-trained ears of that Agent to sniff out a victim and come running. But the guns, fire and crowds were too loud.

Claire was straining so hard against her bonds by the time the truck crashed that she was nearly cutting off her circulation. Far too defiant to get knocked out by the impact, her adrenaline kept her alert and conscious. All she could do was watch Leon Kennedy run away with a girl at his side. Claire watched them with blue eyes through the fabric flaps until the noise died down and the fire burnt out, leaving everything in darkness.

An hour later she mumbled a word against her gag that Chris would have clipped her round the back of the head for.

* * *

**Pueblo, Spain  
**

**Saturday September 18th  
**

**13:00 **(Spanish Time)

"Agent Kennedy – Agent Kennedy…Leon!"

Someone tried grabbing for his arm but he snatched it back, gunning in the first direction he looked at.

"Jesus Christ man, get a grip on yourself!" A man in uniform stood and watched as the Agent strode off ahead of him. "Oh that's it, great idea. I can do the same, watch – " He covered his eyes with his hand and felt around in front of him blindly before pointing in a random direction. "Let's go…that way!" Not amused, he wiped the smile off his face and slapped his hands back to his sides. "Gimme a break!"

"I never asked you to come." Came a brooding voice up ahead.

The man slumped with a blank look on his face. Somehow, even through being such a cocky little bastard, Leon always guilt tripped the guys into watching his back. They all wanted to do it too, which was the bizarre thing. What was he, a woman? Chase sighed and shifted his feet. "Don't make me come after you! …You pompous jerk, son of a bitch…" Murmuring likewise quips, Chase readied his weapon and started forward, looking behind him momentarily to wave on the rest of his men. They were the clean up mission, to eliminate any trace threat of the terrorist threat and it's virus. And while they did their job…

"Right guys, while emo kid goes off to play hero, we've got a job to do. Let's move out."

…Leon got to get laid. Probably. Again.

"Son of a bitch…"

* * *

**An Undisclosed area in Spain**

**Friday September 17th  
**

**02:45** (Spanish Time)

After hours of waiting, Claire was getting delirious. After the pretention that she was a good soldier and thought of ways to escape, she stopped the act and laid daydreaming of ridiculous things. She could feel it, the creeping of delirium as she laid with no possible hope of survival. If she thought seriously she would crack at the seams and start crying for help – but she'd already skipped that part. More conscious in her thoughts was the fact that she wouldn't get to give herself her injection. If much more time passed, the numbing side-effects would wear off and the disease would start gnawing away at her insides.

Getting bitten by a zombie. What a stupid thing to do.

They had gotten vaccines, herbs, medi-kits – the lot. But after being thrown in a prison cell in Paris and not having the vaccines handy within the right time limit, Claire was turning. She had felt it on the concrete floor when she came to. The guard gave her a lighter and asked her to go get medicine for him – he knew she was just as done for. There was no threat in letting her out, she probably wouldn't survive anyway. Best use her to get him his meds huh? Humane.

The moment she knew was on the plane home with her brother. She'd taken her jacket off, rolled it up into a pillow and fallen asleep mid-flight with folded arms. But somewhere during sleep, they slackened and her vein patterned wrists fell limply into Chris' eye-sight.

She'd woken up in quarantine.

Eight months they all scrambled to do something. Eight months of staring at the ceiling and counting. She had amenities; A bathroom, toiletries, hygiene. But not much else. Finally they'd managed to figure out it was not contagious after months of treatment. On the outside she was fine. So they'd sent her to a doctor in Boston and he told her something she didn't like.

Claire blinked and started counting out loud again. She was so enthralled in her little game that someone had managed to walk right up to the truck and pull open the flaps before she noticed anything.

"Ah…someone has left me a present."

Claire looked straight at him in shock.

"Hmm…well I know Leon does not like to share…" The man pondered, his European accent emphasizing every syllable. "So I guess this is the work of my lucky stars, heh?"

Claire struggled as if to point out the obvious but the man did not seem willing to stop his monologue. Rolling her eyes, she waited ignoring him until his hands tugged the mouth gag free and moved to untie her bonds -

Claire was up on her knees in a second and swung the back of her balled fist straight into the side of the stranger's head. Not knowing whether he was hindrance or help, she risked looking like an insensitive prick if it kept her safe. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Aye! Wha - ? A little ungrateful do you not think? Ah…." The man staggered back from the truck and nudged the soreness of his cheek before bowing at her sarcastically. "You're welcome".

Claire scrambled out of the back of the truck and steadied herself on her feet, before starting to check her weapons were all present.

"Luis Sera."

Claire looked up and nodded. "Claire Redfield."


End file.
